


a green ring upon my finger

by Emlee_J



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Married Couple, Married Life, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Pro Volleyball Player Hinata Shouyou, Pro Volleyball Player Kageyama Tobio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21892954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emlee_J/pseuds/Emlee_J
Summary: There, along the base of his left ring finger, is a smudge of green across the skin. “Dumbass-“ he starts.“Don’t call me a dumbass, Tobio, my finger is rotting.”“It’s not rotting, it’s from your ring you idiot,” Tobio tells him, half amused and half deeply exasperated. “But you said you didn’t want to tell anyone yet,” he then states, staring hard at his partner. “Isn’t everyone wondering why you’re wearing a wedding ring?”“I don’t deny I’m married!” Hinata laughs, sounding very proud at this declaration. Tobio’s chest squeezes.-In which Hinata and Kageyama are married within 48 hours of Hinata returning from Brazil, and there are worries, a secret, and cheap rings apparently leave green marks on your skin.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 101
Kudos: 2059
Collections: Haikyuu Fanfiction Archive





	a green ring upon my finger

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday Kageyama Tobio

Kageyama Tobio has spent most of the past week in something akin to absolute, pure bliss. It’s the happiest he’s ever been, and he went to the Olympics. He’s spent enough time trying to smother a large, wobbly smile from spreading over his face that his cheeks ache. He’s been getting curious stares from his teammates (not that he’s noticed.) He feels light and airy and warm, like he could float away.

And the source of all this joy is the man draped over him in a poor imitation of a duvet and crushing him into the mattress.

It’s been five days since Hinata got back from Brazil, since he had surprised Tobio in the Schweiden Adlers changing rooms, of all places.

(He’d had a game, the day Hinata’s plane had landed back in Tokyo. Just an exhibition match, but Hinata would never forgive him if he even so much as thought about not participating, so Tobio couldn’t meet him at the airport. The plan had been to meet Hinata at his hotel afterwards, but Hinata, being the impatient little goblin that he is, had decided to barrel his way into the changing rooms instead.

Tobio had spent an embarrassing amount of time simply gawping at his boyfriend, in checked shorts and smiling brighter than the stadium spotlights and _tanned_.

It was only when one of the middle blockers noticed and started to question their intruder that Tobio had snapped out of his trance and dragged Hinata off down the hallway and into the first unoccupied room they could find, a storeroom, so they could reacquaint properly.

“Not that I haven’t missed you,” Hinata had gasped as Tobio mouthed his way down his neck (so much thicker now, oh my _God_ ), perched on a stack of crates with Tobio between his legs. “Like, really, _really_ missed you, but have you noticed you’re only half dressed?”

Tobio had wrenched his head back with a little confusion and a lot of regret to look down at himself. And there he was, in a sweaty volleyball jersey and his boxers and one kneepad on his left leg and one sock on his right foot. He felt heat swoop up from his chest, his neck, until his cheeks were burning. “Why didn’t you say anything?” He hissed, squeezing Hinata’s cheeks between his palms to silence his cackling. All of his teammates had seen him leave with Hinata looking like this and then decidedly _not_ returning any time soon.

“You dragged me off!” Hinata said with glee, voice muffled between squished lips. He reached up to grab Tobio’s wrists to pry his hands away. “And I didn’t… want to wait either,” he said, much quieter now, changing his grip to hold Tobio’s wrists loosely instead. “I missed you _so much_ , Kageyama.”

One look at his boyfriend’s big, soft, sticky-toffee-pudding eyes, wide and earnest and shiny and Tobio’s chest seized. His own eyes had started to prickle uncomfortably, just a little, and he reached for Hinata, gathering him against his chest in a fierce hug. His nose was pressed into Hinata’s hair where the redhead was tucked under his chin, and he had to take several long deep breaths to settle the strong surge of emotion rioting in his ribcage.

He missed Hinata too, _so much_ , and if going from having him at his side every day to sporadic meet-ups in the year before Brazil felt like having a limb chopped off, the two years of total separation was… well. There were a lot of nights Tobio had cursed long and hard at the very concept of time zones and distance and the sheer audacity of the oceans’ existence.

“I missed you too,” he had said gruffly into Hinata’s crown, and felt Hinata grip the back of his jersey tightly. The spot where Hinata’s face was pressed against his collarbone felt damp against his skin, and Tobio wasn’t sure whether it was from sweat or tears, but he said nothing.

“Let’s go home,” Hinata had said, face still pressed into Tobio, his voice rough and muffled.

“But your hotel room…?”

“Let’s go _home_ ,” Hinata had said again, firmly, before: “but maybe put your trousers on first.”

Tobio had sighed again, in weary resignation. Hopefully the changing room would be empty instead of full of nosey teammates.)

Hinata had ended up checking out of his hotel room early, spending every night at Tobio’s instead. He hadn’t asked and Tobio hadn’t offered, but it wasn’t necessary – neither of them wanted to sleep apart now, if they could physically help it.

Tobio shuffles under his partner’s dead weight and tries to move his left leg a little (because a cramp is starting to form in his calf) and he manages to shift Hinata just a smidge to free his lower leg before the other man snuffles sleepily into his sternum.

Tobio freezes immediately. He’s almost never awake before Hinata is – because the redhead has risen at the crack of dawn for as long as Tobio’s known him – and the fact Hinata is actually still asleep right now is something of a miracle. Hinata would blame jet lag probably, if he were awake, his sleeping pattern not quite synched with the change in time zones.

Thankfully, his partner doesn’t waken, just continues his impression of an elephant sleeping on Tobio’s chest.

It was a _shock_ , the first night Hinata came home and tumbled with him into Tobio’s bed, how much bigger he was. He hadn’t grown any taller, but he was broader – strong shoulders with a healthy tan and his _thighs_ … Tobio remembers when he’d finally peeled off those stupidly endearing checked shorts and just about lost his mind.

Tobio raises a hand and runs it gently from the back of Hinata’s neck and across his back, appreciating the strong muscles under soft skin. He tilts his chin until he can smother his smile into his partner’s hair (even brighter now, lightened by Brazilian sunshine. Still short – the same style as when he left – but the strands still curl up at the ends, defying gravity regardless of length.)

He’s so _proud_ , of how hard Hinata worked, how his efforts are shown in his physique and his confidence.

There were times, at the beginning of Hinata’s stay in Brazil, where Hinata was quiet and not as enthusiastic in his storytelling during their phone calls. Where he asked a little too much about what Tobio was doing and if he had heard anything from their friends. He never said as much, but Tobio thinks that Hinata was tempted to say he wanted to come home, during those calls.

Tobio would speak a little too loudly, then, of what he’d achieved in his latest game, speak a little too much praise for one of the team’s spikers. The best way to jolt Hinata out of any funk (volleyball related or not) was to inject him with _more_ volleyball and prod at the competitive beast that lay inside him. Gently antagonise him until he was hanging up on Tobio because he was inspired to go for a run or pester his roommate to teach him more Portuguese or try cooking a new healthy dish he wanted to try.

Tobio hasn’t seen him play yet – there’d been no opportunity. His own team demanded all of his time for practice and Hinata had been run ragged after his immediate appointment as the Black Jackals’ newest spiker. Back when they were teenagers they would’ve _made_ time available so that they could practice more, _more_ until they could taste blood on their breath and their muscles screamed, but they were adults now, and wiser.

And Tobio is so excited for when he finally gets to see Hinata play. He’s never been more excited for a match that hasn’t even been scheduled yet. There have been a few texts – from Bokuto mainly, and some of their friends who’ve seen Hinata’s videos from Brazil – raving about how Hinata is even faster now, how they called him a ninja in Brazil and how _‘God, Kageyama, wait till you see him_ jump _.’_

Hinata makes another sleepy noise and Tobio pulls his head back just enough so he can look at his face.

It’s soft and slack with sleep, still in a way it never is when he’s awake, and it’s moments like this when Tobio can stare him and really appreciate that the man in his arms really did _grow up_. The rounded cheeks and baby fat around his jaw have finally melted away, leaving a jawline that makes Tobio’s heart flip and want to scrape his teeth across. Tobio swipes a thumb along it, relishing the rasp against his finger pad. In the mornings it’s dusted with stubble now, a deeper red than the hair on his head, and Tobio had taken great pleasure in teasing Hinata about finally being able to grow a beard.

Hinata’s jaw shifts under Tobio’s thumb as he swallows and then stretches wide in a yawn. Tobio watches as red eyebrows furrow and crease and then two sleepy brown eyes are gazing at him, unfocused with the haze of sleep.

“Morning,” Tobio says.

“Hmm… good morning,” Hinata mumbles back, turning his face to press a sloppy kiss against Tobio’s bare chest. Normally, Hinata springs to awareness fairly quickly, but today he seems he’s content to be lazy, nuzzling against Tobio and letting his eyes drift shut again.

“You’re heavy,” Tobio points out, arching his back as best he can. Hinata shifts against him but otherwise makes no effort to move.

“Revenge,” Hinata slurs against him, but makes no attempt to elaborate on what for.

Tobio slides the hand that was resting against Hinata’s face along his neck, his shoulder, his arm, fingers drifting across bare, tanned skin until he reaches his partner’s left hand and holds it.

Hinata slots his fingers against his. Tobio squeezes. Warm metal rubs against his skin. A glint of gold.

To think, the scrawny little kid who grabbed his attention by flying above a volleyball net and _held_ his attention by issuing a lifelong challenge, would one day be his husband.

(It had barely been two days since Hinata had come home, late at night when he pressed their foreheads together, sticky with afterglow and panted, “hey, Tobio? Will you marry me?”

Tobio had frozen, locked in place for an agonisingly long time, staring up at this partner in disbelief. He must’ve misheard, misunderstood, because there’s no way Hinata had just asked him _that_ question. Brown eyes stared back, holding his gaze, patient and determined and waiting.

“I- what?” Tobio had choked out. He couldn’t breathe, his chest was so full.

“Marry me,” Hinata repeated, a soft demand, and it sounds the same as _‘toss to me’_ from all those years ago.

“I…” Tobio croaked, his voice dead in his throat. He had to take a moment to breathe around the weight in his chest, as the significance of what Hinata is asking him settled in.

And it’s a yes, of course it is, because Tobio will always be weak to Hinata’s demands. Will always be dragged into his pace, racing alongside him and _God_ if Tobio doesn’t want that for forever.

“Yeah, okay,” he finally managed, voice cracked and wrecked and then Hinata grinned – bright and fierce, like midday sunshine, and swooped down to capture Tobio’s mouth in a kiss so intense Tobio actually sobbed.)

Tobio rolls his body again, trying to rouse his partner. “Up,” he demands.

Hinata yawns again before finally raising himself onto his elbows, and Tobio has just a few precious seconds to enjoy his lungs’ full capacity before his husband is crawling up to steal a kiss. “Breakfast?” Hinata murmurs, their lips brushing.

“Are you asking or offering?” Tobio asks, trailing the tip of his nose along Hinata’s bridge. He hopes it’s the latter – Tobio is very proficient at toast, but Hinata came back from Brazil knowing how to cook, properly, and Tobio has become moderately obsessed with it.

“Well considering I’m a great cook and you can just about manage cereal, I _suppose_ I’m offering,” Hinata teases, turning his head to press a wet kiss to Tobio’s cheek, complete with an obnoxious _‘mwah’_. He then rolls off Tobio completely, getting out of bed in one swift movement.

Tobio takes a moment to admire his retreating figure – strong back and thighs and his backside (hilariously pale compared to the rest of him right now) before he realises Hinata will be getting in the shower first and he wrestles with the duvet to launch himself out of bed.

But Hinata has a head start and he quickly darts out of the bedroom and into the bathroom just in time to close the door in Tobio’s face. Ninja Shouyou indeed.

“Oi!” Tobio yells, thumping on the wood.

“Go and turn the rice cooker on!” Hinata hollers back and Tobio’s face folds into a grumpy pout. They could at least _share_ the shower…

The sound of running water echoes through the door and Tobio sighs, resigning himself to having to wait. As he lifts his hand from the bathroom door the glint of the matching ring on his own hand catches his eye and he gazes at it for a long moment, his pout melting into a wobbly, embarrassed smile.

Hinata had _married_ him. Hinata, who was the friendliest person Tobio had ever met, who got along with literally everybody, who came back from Brazil with muscles to die for, tanned and gorgeous, had chosen _Tobio_ , of all people, to marry.

Well, the least he could do was turn on the rice cooker, he supposed.

* * *

Hinata Shouyou is patient with only two things: volleyball and people, and so it was no real surprise to Tobio when he suggested they got married at the registry office only two days after they agreed to actually get married in the first place.

Tobio had agreed (through some fast nodding instead of words – Hinata had kissed his red cheeks with a delighted laugh) and then became suspicious that Hinata had actually done _some_ form of planning when he told him their mothers and Natsu were coming down for the day, so they could be their witnesses.

“My Mum and Natsu were coming down to visit for the day anyway,” Hinata had said when Tobio accused him. “And so yesterday I said to bring yours along too! They’d hit the roof if they found out we did this without them, you know that.”

This couldn’t be denied – their mothers had been thick as thieves ever since they became frequent visitors to each other’s houses during their second year of high school, and were simply delighted when they had transitioned to dating in the year before Hinata left for Brazil. Tobio still remembers telling his mother on one of his visits back home, halting and nervous, and the feeling of sheer relief when she had offered only heartfelt congratulations rather than scorn.

“And you’re okay with this?” Tobio had asked, when they made the appointment at the registry office (“who makes an appointment to get married?” Hinata had asked, bewildered.) “No ceremony or party, just… this?”

Hinata had sat up and away from where he had been curled against Tobio’s side on the sofa, stretching his legs out and resting his elbows on his knees. “Yeah,” he had said, soft and happy, staring off into the middle distance. “When I was in Brazil, my last beach volleyball partner – Heitor – got married. And when I was watching his and Nice’s wedding the only thing I could think of…” he reached out and grasped Tobio’s knee. “Was how much I wanted that with _you_.”

Tobio’s chest hurt at that, with how large his heart must’ve swollen, and he had grabbed for Hinata’s hand on his knee, grasping it tightly, in lieu of any words. He couldn’t think of anything to say.

He would’ve done it – the ceremony, the party, the works, if Hinata had wanted it. He would’ve found it awkward and terribly embarrassing, in front of everyone they knew, but he would’ve done it, for Hinata. “We can still celebrate with everyone,” he’d offered, after a few silent minutes. “After.”

“I suppose people would be mad if we did nothing huh?” Hinata had said with a laugh. “We can do a gathering back home, with everyone, when we’re all available.” Then he had sat back, flush against Tobio’s side, head against the back of the sofa as he turned to look at Tobio – warm and bright and hopeful.

“That sounds good,” Tobio had replied, because it did. He wasn’t as social as Hinata, never would be, but he _liked_ their friends, and although he would’ve found the pomp and structure of a traditional wedding horribly embarrassing, he still wanted to celebrate with everyone that would be happy for them.

“But we should probably not tell anyone until we actually organise something,” Hinata had said, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

“That we got married?”

“Mmhm… I don’t want anyone to be mad! It wouldn’t be for long, though…”

Tobio had paused, taking in Hinata’s far off expression. There was worry in that face, some concern that Tobio couldn’t pinpoint. He was about to question it when Hinata rolled onto his lap, and he had to reach up to cup his back to steady him.

“We’re gonna be married…” Hinata had sing-songed, and Tobio didn’t have time to squirm in happy embarrassment because Hinata then dived down for a kiss – messy and open mouthed.

“Secretly,” Tobio had muttered grumpily when his partner pulled away for air. It was just… something didn’t sit right, not telling people. Why was Hinata worried about that?

“Just for a little bit,” Hinata had murmured, and slipped his hands under Tobio’s shirt.

“Our parents will be here in an _hour_ ,” Tobio had hissed, hips jumping as Hinata’s hands skirted over his bare sides, across his ribs.

Hinata nosed at his throat when Tobio bent his head back to bare it. “Better be quick then,” he had challenged, nipping the skin underneath Tobio’s jaw.

And, well, since when had Tobio ever backed down from a challenge?

He could question the waiting thing later, he reasoned as clothing was shed at speed, it wasn’t like he didn’t want, _desperately_ , to marry this man anyway regardless.

* * *

Two weeks later, and Tobio is accidentally dropping an entire packet of noodles into a pot instead of the small amount he was trying to measure – jolting in response to the loud wail from the bathroom.

He jerks back from the pot with a curse, the splashes of boiling water just about missing him. Turning down the heat on the stove before everything boils over and causes an almighty mess, he then abandons his cooking to sprint down the hall to find out why his husband is suddenly yelling. Not that Hinata yelling is, in and of itself, unusual, but he doesn’t normally sound this distressed.

“What is it?” He demands, wrenching open the bathroom door (unlocked, because both neither of them can be bothered to ever lock it.)

Hinata is fresh from a shower, wearing only a towel around his waist and staring at his finger with a look of genuine, absolute horror. “I think I have gangrene,” He says, dramatically.

“Gangrene,” Tobio repeats, extremely confused. He can feel the edges of annoyance start to make themselves known.

“Definitely. My finger is green, so it must be…” Hinata is rambling frantically, turning his hand over and staring at his finger from all angles. “Oh God, what if it falls off? I mean it’s my left hand but still… I can’t lose a finger _now_ , I just made the team! Wait! Can’t they stick it back on if you put it in ice? Kageyama do we have ice-”

Tobio interrupts the deranged rambling by grabbing his husband’s hand to look for himself. There, along the base of his left ring finger, is a smudge of green across the skin. “Dumbass-“ he starts.

“Don’t call me a _dumbass_ , Tobio, my finger is rotting.”

“It’s not _rotting_ , it’s from your ring you idiot,” Tobio tells him, half amused and half deeply exasperated. Dinner is definitely fucked now, the noodles will be half mush and half raw at this point. He wants to be angrier about it, but he can’t, because…

Because he’d also panicked, the first time he had taken his ring off to slide it onto its chain and seen the green mark on his finger (though it wasn’t as dark as Hinata’s.) Except he’d googled it frantically in the Adlers changing room rather than shouting the whole place down.

“My ring?” Hinata asks, looking befuddled.

“Yeah it’s from the… metal, inside, or something? It’s only gold plated, so the metal underneath reacts with your skin and makes it go green.”

Hinata looks at him suspiciously. “How do you know that?”

“How did you not notice before?” Tobio fires back.

“I haven’t taken it off yet!”

Tobio blinks, taken aback by that. “You… haven’t taken it off?” He asks, voice softer now.

“No! I-“ Hinata breaks off, rubbing the back of his neck as his cheeks pinken slightly with embarrassment. “I didn’t want to. I only took it off now because I got all this shampoo stuck underneath it. It was itchy,” he says finally, the corner of his mouth turning up in a shy sort of smile as he meets Tobio’s curious gaze.

Warmth coils pleasantly in Tobio’s gut at the thought of Hinata wanting to keep his ring on at all times, but then his brow furrows as a question occurs to him. “You’ve been wearing it while playing?”

“Ah… yeah,” Hinata admits.

“But you said you didn’t want to tell anyone yet,” Tobio states, staring hard at his partner. “Isn’t everyone wondering why you’re wearing a wedding ring?”

“I don’t deny I’m _married!_ ” Hinata laughs, sounding very proud at this declaration. Tobio’s chest squeezes. “And I’ve only just joined, so, most people aren’t too curious.”

“You play with Bokuto.”

 _(‘And Miya Atsumu’_ , he doesn’t say. A very childish part of Tobio is still very jealous at the thought of that guy setting to Hinata now.)

“He is remarkably easy to distract,” Hinata says fondly. “Anyway! Why isn’t your finger green?” He demands, abruptly changing the subject and grabbing for Tobio’s hand to inspect it for himself, even though Tobio’s ring is in place.

“I told you, I take mine off.” And then he has to add hurriedly because Hinata looks very betrayed, “when I play, idiot. I put it on a chain.”

“Oh! That’s a good idea,” Hinata approves. He lets go of Tobio’s hand to turn back to the sink, where his ring is sitting on the side, and picks it up to slot it back into place. Then he frowns, tilting his head up to the ceiling. “Is something burning?”

Tobio curses and sticks his head out the door to check the overflowing noodles in the pot haven’t set fire to the place, even on the low heat he left them on. “I, uhh, put too many noodles in the pot,” he grunts. And then before Hinata can start on the inevitable rib: “because you started yelling and I dropped them all in!” He pokes the redhead sharply on the forehead.

Hinata just snorts a laugh and captures Tobio’s wrist, tugging on his arm until he’s the vicinity for him to tilt up onto his toes to kiss him. “Sorry,” he smiles against Tobio’s mouth. “Let me get dressed and I’ll come fix it, okay?”

Tobio wants to argue, to protest that he can make dinner just fine, thank-you very much, but then his stomach gurgles and he swallows his words. He really needs to get a grip on how weak he is for Hinata’s cooking.

“So, hang on,” Hinata says later, when they’re seated at the table and shovelling the food into their mouths that Hinata thankfully was able to rescue. “Why aren’t everyone’s fingers green?”

Looking over his chopsticks, Tobio stares at his partner in befuddlement. “What.”

“Green!” Hinata repeats, voice muffled by a mouthful of food, and he waggles his left ring finger at Tobio. Swallowing, he continues, “I mean, I’ve never heard of your skin going green…”

“How many people do you see with their rings off?” Tobio asks, thoroughly confused.

Hinata hums, tapping his utensils against his bowl in thought. Tobio can practically see the gears in his head struggling to turn. “No-one, I guess? But it’s still weird, right? I don’t think that’s normal.”

Tobio chews his next mouthful of food slowly in consideration. The truth is, Hinata is right and their fingers shouldn’t be turning green, ideally, but he also knows Hinata will be sensitive about it, if he tells him. “I told you, it’s because they’re gold plated,” he says finally, diplomatically.

“… So if they were solid gold, it wouldn’t happen?” Hinata asks after a couple of silent minutes of eating.

Dammit. Tobio winces internally.

Because their… _wedding_ (as it were) was so fast, they had literally visited the first jewellers they found to pick out rings. And Hinata had insisted they pay equally for them, which Tobio was fine with, except… Hinata didn’t have a lot of money, and he had a lot less than Tobio did. Which meant the only ones they could afford were the cheapest gold-plated ones in the shop. Tobio had managed to convince his partner that that was fine, he didn’t care that they weren’t expensive or made out of precious metals, he’d be happy if they were made out of papier-mâché, but he knew Hinata had still felt a little inadequate about it.

“Probably not,” he says, honestly, and he stretches a hand across the table to brush his fingers against his husband’s wrist. “But we can just wash it off right? So what does it matter?”

Hinata pushes aside his, mostly finished, meal to grasp at Tobio’s hand firmly. “When we win the league,” he declares, “I’m going to buy you a solid diamond ring.”

Tobio snorts, both at the thought of a solid ring of diamond and that Hinata thought his team would win the league (that would be his team, _obviously._ ) “Solid diamond?”

“Yep,” Hinata says seriously.

“That sounds awful,” Tobio tells him, and his mouth quirks at his partner’s aghast expression. “Gold is fine, dummy.”

“Solid gold then,” Hinata amends.

It reminds Tobio of when they were at school – bartering over what reward there would be for whoever could spike further, have the most service aces, successful blocks and the harder challenges like who could pass maths. The nostalgia of it curls warm and lovely inside him. He’s missed this, this easy competitiveness with Hinata, bereft of it for nearly three years. He’s missed _him_ , this past two.

“Okay,” Tobio agrees. “You’d better work hard then.”

“When do I not?”

* * *

At first, the whole not telling people thing was… fine. Tobio still didn’t really like it, didn’t like how he still felt Hinata was worried about something _more_ than just their friends being annoyed they weren’t there to watch them sign a bit of paper, but he was too busy to give it too much thought. The season was going to start up soon, which meant gruelling practice, every day, and little opportunity to talk to people outside of his teammates and Hinata when they got home, happy but exhausted.

Things start to come to a head after one practice, when the Adlers were changing, ready to leave.

Tobio pulls the chain from around his neck to slip his ring from it back onto his finger, when there was a quiet “congratulations” from above him.

He twists his neck to look up to see Ushijima standing next to him, the older man looking serious as always.

“Huh?” He replies, intelligently.

The spiker nodded at Tobio’s hand. “You’re married. I didn’t realise. Congratulations,” Ushijima offers. He’s not smiling, but his expression looks warmer, somehow.

“I… thank-you,” Tobio says, vaguely stunned. He has an abrupt urge to say _‘it’s Hinata – do you still hate him?’_ but he bites his tongue at the last second. Secret. They were keeping it a secret (not that he thinks Ushijima is prone to gossip but stranger things have happened) and he doesn’t really want the answer to that question regardless.

The older man pats his shoulder and steps away, and Tobio is left holding his shirt for a few seconds before he snaps out of his daze and shrugs it on.

On the way home on the train, he’s watching a video on his phone. It’s a short promotional one from the Black Jackals, with some footage of the players on the line-up this year and short interviews with a few of them. Hinata features, of course (which is why Tobio is watching) – as the newest member and the one most people are interested in, given his unusual height.

He watches as his husband answers the questions with his usual charisma, and when the interviewer, clearly smitten with Hinata’s charm, offers a compliment how he reaches up to rub the back of his head in embarrassment. The glint of the ring on his finger catches the light and Tobio remembers how Hinata says he doesn’t take it off, never denies that he’s married.

He just doesn’t say who he’s married _to._

Tobio has to pause the video and stuff his phone in his pocket at his sudden annoyance. It’s probably stupid, how much this is bothering him, because it’s not like Hinata demanded they keep it a secret for forever – just until their schedules calmed down for them to get everyone together. But, still… Tobio doesn’t understand the total secrecy.

There are times, when Hinata is brought up in conversation during practice (because the Black Jackals’ hot new addition is a popular topic) that Tobio wants to say _‘that’s my husband’_. He wants everyone to know, sometimes, that Hinata is _his_. He wants to say to Ushijima, a teammate and something of a friend, that he’s _married_ to the person that lit such a fire in him during high school. He wants to tell their friends what they did, even if they complain over the lack of a wedding.

He’s proud of it, being married to Hinata Shouyou.

But is Hinata proud of being married to Kageyama Tobio?

Tobio thunks his forehead against the train window and groans. Enough. He’s over-thinking. Scrunching his eyes closed, he forces himself to go over his moves during the training drills today, envisioning them in his mind to see what went well, what he could do better.

It barely manages to be enough of a distraction.

When he gets home, it’s to an orange whirlwind in their bedroom.

“What the fuck are you doing,” Tobio demands warily, the frustration from earlier leaking into his voice as he watches his husband dash frantically around the room. Sans a shirt.

“Ah, Kageyama!” Hinata darts over to him with a smile, and trips over a pair of jeans on the floor.

Tobio catches him by the arm and is about to berate him when Hinata barrels over him with happy babble. “Yachi called! She’s in town for an exhibition and she said we should go for dinner!”

“Okay…?”

“And I don’t really have anything presentable to wear,” Hinata continues, gesturing over his shoulder at the small pile of t-shirts on their bed. “Everything is dirty or, err, not a shirt.”

This makes sense – Hinata had brought only the clothes he took to Brazil when he essentially moved into Tobio’s flat upon his return. And those only consisted of exercise clothing and shorts and t-shirts. Nothing fancy. Tobio is fairly sure the jeans he’s got on are his only pair.

“I’ll just have to wear one of yours,” Hinata is saying, striding over to Tobio’s closet.

Tobio’s brow furrows in confusion. “They won’t fit.”

Hinata ignores him, already rummaging through the clothes hangers. “I’ll roll the sleeves up!”

Heaving a sigh, Tobio reaches up and massages his temples with one hand. Fine. Whatever. He had a shower after practice, so all he needs to do is get changed. If there any shirts left for him to wear after Hinata is done trying them on, that is.

“Wait, hang on,” he says suddenly as a thought occurs to him. “What are you going to say to her?”

“Say?” Hinata asks, tilting his head in confusion at him, one arm stuffed through one of Tobio’s slimmer fitting shirts.

“Yeah, about _this_.” Tobio reaches out and grasps Hinata’s left hand, the one he had poked through the shirtsleeve. Hinata’s ring glints dimly under the bedroom lighting.

“O-oh! Hmmm…” Hinata frowns down at his hand, looking thoughtful, clearly coming up with some kind of game plan.

One that clearly didn’t involve telling one of their oldest friends, one of their most _loyal_ friends, that they were married.

One that involved them going to dinner and saying absolutely nothing at all.

“You should wear one of the bigger ones,” Tobio grunts, suddenly incredibly, irrationally, annoyed. “The sleeves will flop over your hands and she won’t see.”

“Tobio?” Hinata asks, voice soft with confusion at Tobio’s tone.

“Or just take it off. Don’t forget to wash the green off your finger,” Tobio goes on, anger rumbling in his voice. His temper is starting to fray at the edges, and he feel it – an argument waiting to explode.

“Tobio!” Hinata says loudly, just shy of a shout. He’s shoved his other arm through the empty shirtsleeve now, so that the shirt is on properly, albeit still unbuttoned. “What’s wrong?” He demands, hands on hips. He’s frowning, but there’s concern there, crinkled around his eyes.

“Nothing,” Tobio spits. “You don’t want to tell her, you figure it out. I’m having a shower.”

He doesn’t need a shower, he’s already had one, but he’s on the cusp of really just losing it right now and the last thing he wants to do is blow up at his husband, no matter how annoyed he is. He hasn’t spent the past two years hating every second of their distance to devolve into a shouting match within a month of reuniting. They’ve bickered, sure, because that’s what they do, but arguing? Really arguing? No.

A strong hand grips his forearm as he turns to leave and holds him in place. Tobio tries to wrench his arm free, but Hinata’s grip is like iron. The muscles in his shoulders aren’t just for show.

“You don’t need a shower. _Tell me_ what’s wrong,” Hinata demands, voice like steel.

Tobio stares holes into the floor by his feet, mind whirling as he tries to figure out what to say. He could, maybe, just wrestle himself free and storm off, but he doesn’t think Hinata will let him. He wants to say so many things, and yet also say nothing at all, lest he get an answer he doesn’t want to hear.

“Why-“ he starts, then breaks off. Wets his lips his tongue. Tries again. “Why are we keeping this a secret, exactly?” He asks, voice low. He keeps his gaze on the floor.

There’s no answer, and the grip on his forearm does not falter. When Tobio turns just enough to see Hinata’s face, its shadowed where his head is bent, creased with guilt.

“Shouyou!” He barks, and his partner’s head snaps back up, wide brown eyes meeting his. “Why? Why the cover-up? Because we didn’t have a ceremony for people to attend? Who gives a shit? If they’re annoyed that’s their problem.”

“That’s…” Hinata starts to say, and his face goes through a series of complex expressions Tobio cannot identify. “That’s not it, exactly…” He finishes, lamely.

“Yeah, I know,” Tobio growls. “You’re happy to tell people you’re married, happy to wear a wedding ring on public television, but not to tell anyone who you’re married _to_.” His chest is starting to heave with how angry he is. It’s bluster, a lot of it. It’s easier to feel angry, an escalation of his frustration. Anything to cover up the upset that’s building, low and heavy in his gut.

Hinata’s face morphs into one of absolute horror. “You think I don’t want to tell people I’m married to you?" He croaks.

“ _You don’t_!” Tobio bursts, his voice finally escalating into a shout. “You’re shit at hiding things from me, it’s not about not having everyone in that office, I can _tell_ , Shouyou, so if you’re ashamed or _embarrassed_ -“

“ _Stop_.”

Hinata’s voice is a steely command, and two hands clamp over the sides of Tobio’s face, forcing him to look down into his partner’s face. It’s twisted with distress, but there’s a fire burning in those amber eyes.

“Do not ever,” Hinata says, his lower and rougher than Tobio has ever heard it, “ _ever_ think, for one single second, that I am anything less than absolutely ecstatic to be married to you.”

Tobio’s chest shudders with his uneven breaths. His hands are curled into fists at his sides, throat so tight he couldn’t say anything, even if he wanted to.

Hinata runs his thumbs over Tobio’s cheeks before he starts to speak.

“This past month? I’ve been the happiest I’ve ever been in my _entire life_ , Tobio. I get to play volleyball, professionally, with some of the best players in the country and then I get to come home every single day, straight to you. And I did want to keep us quiet for a bit, just for a short while, and I am so, _so_ sorry that my selfishness made you think that I wasn’t _so proud_ to be your husband.”

Hinata pauses, heaving in a juddery breath of his own, his eyes never leaving Tobio’s face – bright and luminous.

“When we played together, in high school, so many people thought I was only there because of you. And to be honest, a lot of the time, they had a point. But there were so many times I wanted people to think I was there under my own merit, and when I joined the Black Jackals, I was just… a little worried, just a bit, that people would think I’d only got there because I was _with_ you. That you’d… I don’t know, spoken to them or got me the opportunity to try out or so many different things. That I wasn’t just your spiker for a good quick attack, but that I was some sort of pity husband.”

He has to stop again for breath, and he’s starting to look incredibly close to tears, a smile on his face but it’s small, and sad.

“It’s not that I’m not proud of being your partner, but I wanted to be your _partner_ , on equal ground, side-by-side, rather than pulled along with you. And I know you don’t treat me like that, you’ve treated me equally since we were sixteen and I love you for it, but everyone else-“

“Is a fucking idiot, Shouyou, that’s not your problem,” Tobio blurts, his throat finally unsticking with the sheer force of relief running through him. _This_ he understands, more than anyone else, how Hinata has struggled with his feelings of being recognised for his own achievements. “Why the hell didn’t you just tell me this in the first place?” He’s still annoyed, but it’s a familiar sort of annoyance – at Hinata’s endless stupidity rather than something horrible and heart breaking.

“I thought you’d be mad!” Hinata protests, gripping Tobio’s face tighter. His ring catches against Tobio’s hairline.

“I am mad,” Tobio agrees. “Mad that you didn’t tell me this in the beginning. The media and everyone else who doesn’t know what they’re talking about will come up with their own wrong theories from now until the end of time, you can’t stop them.”

It’s something he’s had to come to terms with himself, since stepping into the world of being a professional athlete. How sports magazines and reporters and television presenters and spectators will all come up with their own conclusions, regardless of how accurate they are.

“Oh…” Hinata says, his face crumpling into an embarrassed pout. It looks childish and endearing and Tobio sighs, reaching up to remove Hinata’s hands from his face so he can pull his husband into a proper hug, tucking his head under his chin and gripping the back of his overlarge shirt.

“Dumbass,” he shoots into Hinata’s hair. He’s still annoyed that Hinata didn’t tell him, but he’s so relieved that his worries were unfounded and honestly, after Hinata’s heartfelt declarations right now he feels like he could walk across the ceiling.

“I’m sorry!” Hinata wails into his collarbone, hugging him back fiercely.

“Just… tell me things, next time,” Tobio sighs, squeezing him back before letting go.

“I’m sorry,” Hinata says again, rocking up onto his toes to kiss him, soft and slow.

“We’re supposed to be meeting Yachi,” Tobio reminds him and his partner drops back down onto the souls of his feet with a yelp. “This is a nice colour on you, though.” He plucks at his shirt that Hinata is wearing. It’s a deep blue; too long in the body and the arms, but they can be tucked and rolled, and, actually, it’s quite a nice fit across his shoulders.

“Thanks,” Hinata says breathlessly, as he does up the buttons at light speed. Tucking the long shirt ends into his jeans with one hand, he gropes behind him for another shirt – white, with thin lines of blue thread running through it – and thrusting it at Tobio with the other. “Here, wear this one, it’s my favourite.”

Tobio takes it, a smile twisting up his mouth, finally, and they both finish changing in silence.

“Wait, hang on!” Hinata says urgently as they’re just about to leave the flat half an hour later.

Tobio crooks an eyebrow at him as his husband digs out his phone. “What?”

One day, Tobio will learn to anticipate Hinata’s speed, but today his reflexes are nowhere near up to scratch, and he can only blink in surprise when his partner loops an arm around his shoulders to drag him down just enough that he can plant a kiss on his cheek.

There’s a quiet _‘snap’_ as Hinata’s phone camera goes off.

“What was that for?” Tobio frowns at him, cheeks pink.

Hinata turns the phone around to show him the photo in lieu of answering. It’s a nice one, Tobio supposes, even if he was caught off guard. They’re both nicely in the frame, and Tobio just looks pleasantly surprised rather than gormless, with Hinata’s lips against his cheek. To the side, Hinata’s left hand is visible, curled around Tobio, his ring on display.

“Let’s put it on Twitter,” Hinata suggests, eyes glinting.

“What.”

“Best way to tell everyone _very_ quickly,” Hinata says, waggling his phone to and fro, looking mischievous.

“Isn’t it faster to text everyone?” Tobio wonders.

“You are underestimating the power of social media, Tobio. It’s okay, right? To post it?” Hinata checks, his eyes darting from his phone screen to Tobio, looking a little unsure suddenly, under the cheeky smile.

“Err… sure,” Tobio gurgles, after a moment. He has a twitter, some official page a manager set up for him once so people wouldn’t impersonate him or something, but he doesn’t really use it. Hinata does though, frequently posting about any inane thing that pops into his head. Since his appointment to the Jackals, it’s been getting a lot more attention recently. Tobio feels very warm all of a sudden – both from embarrassment and no small amount of pride – at the thought of that photo suddenly going up there, for all the world to see.

Hinata grins at him and taps at his phone screen with one thumb as he grabs Tobio’s hand to drag him out the door with the other.

“I love you,” his husband tells him, bright and clear and cheery as they trot down the street to the restaurant where Yachi is waiting.

“And I you,” he replies easily, pushing open the door to the restaurant to find their friend already seated at one of the tables, staring at her phone in rapture.

“Yachi!” Hinata sings, heading over to her.

Yachi looks up at them, her face slack in shock, and she looks quickly back at her phone and then at their matching rings before promptly bursting into tears.

“ _Congratulations!”_ She sobs, standing up so fast from her chair it clatters to the floor, throwing an arm around each of them – one around Hinata’s shoulders and the other around Tobio’s chest (the best she can reach.)

“Ahh, thank-you…?” Tobio says, patting her awkwardly on the head as she bawls.

Hinata strokes her back, looking enormously fond.

Yachi breaks away quickly after a couple minutes more of sniffling, righting her chair and sitting down quickly. Grabbing a napkin from the table, she dabs at her still watery eyes, smiling wide and happy. “Tell me everything,” she demands, waving at them both to sit down.

“Well…” Hinata starts as they take their seats.

Tobio lets his husband take the lead in the storytelling, finding his hand under the table to twine them together, green fingers pressed against each other under matching cheap gold rings.

**Author's Note:**

> if you would like to scream at me about haikyuu, I'm over on twitter @Emlee_J


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